Someday, Maybe
by CrazySockGirl
Summary: After the return of Sherlock, things have become very different for one Molly Hooper. Mollycentric.


At first you thought that Sherlock coming back would be wonderful. Fabulous. Amazing. It would mean no more secrets. Not to John, not to Greg, not to anyone. Life would be back to normal, or, at least, as normal as life ever got when Sherlock was involved.

You wash your hands one more time before leaving the morgue. It's December, only days away from Christmas. The bitter London air hits you as you exit St. Barts. You consider calling a taxi for a moment, but then decide against it. You can still remember the first case John and Sherlock worked on together. Anyways, your flat's only three blocks away. You could use the exercise.

As you walk home, you realize that this will be your first Christmas alone in a long time. Greg is trying to patch things up with his wife again and they've taken a trip to Barbados. Your mother and you had a falling out years ago, after your father's death. You haven't seen her since, but you still send her a gift every year. She doesn't send one back. After all, you are a pathologist. It was an 'unfitting' career for your father, and it's 'highly inappropriate' for you. Sherlock, Mary, Mycroft, and John are all at the Holmes house. Even if they were still in London, you probably wouldn't have spent it with them anyways. John had managed to forgive Sherlock for hiding his…aliveness for two years, and he was close to reconciling with Mary, who had nearly killed Sherlock earlier in the year. However, for some reason, he hasn't forgiven you.

Oh, you two still hang out together, mostly when Sherlock needs you, and he was still as nice as ever to you, but it was different. Before there had been a genuine warmth that John had given you. A warmth that let you know you were at least a little special. A warmth that made one glad to simply stand in his presence. You don't feel that anymore. Now every word he speaks to you is spoken with a cold, distant, politeness. It isn't the passionate hot headed anger that he aims at Sherlock and Mary. No, this anger, it's something different.

You can feel it as he glances your way. He's never going to forgive you. Never.

You can see the lights hung all over the city turn on as the sun dips below the city skyline. You shiver under your layers, feeling the sudden temperature drop. It only drops a little, but it's enough for you to notice. After all, you have spent your adulthood in a freezing morgue. You pass by a bookshop, hesitating, wanting to step inside, but deciding against it. It's late enough as it is. You need to get home.

In the window is a variety of books. Some are romance, some not. They all seem to have the same theme. Unhappy endings. You can see Romeo and Juliet, Wuthering Heights, and that new one, the one popular with teens. The Fault in Our Stars. There are others, too, but you don't bother to look at them all as you pass. As a child you loved books. They were your escape from reality. You were the heroine, and you had it all: Romance, Bravery, Fame. One day you would be the person that people would look up to. All those girls who had once bullied you would be dying to be your friends. But life doesn't work that way does it?

Now, you wonder what your life would look like as a novel. You wouldn't be the main character anymore. No, your life is too much of a sad monologue for that. Who would want to read a story about a poor pathologist anyways. No, you would simply be a secondary character in the great adventure/mystery series of Sherlock Holmes and Dr. John Watson. Still, you mostly achieved your goal. Those girls who bullied you do want to be friends with you now. So they can meet Sherlock. You almost want to introduce them to Sherlock. Watch them be verbally torn down by him. You don't. After all, you're Molly Hooper. You wouldn't do something like that.

Your mind drifts back to the novel of your life. Somehow, you can imagine being cut out of the novel halfway in, meeting some kind of tragic ending. You might not be killed of course, but eventually, you might walk away from Sherlock Holmes, who's almost as bad as the girls who tormented you in High School. Almost. You'll walk away from Mycroft, who kidnaps you at least once a month, just to remind you that Sherlock isn't like other people, Molly. You wonder how long you could leave before he found you again. You wonder if he'd never even go looking. After all, you're just a goldfish, aren't you?

Someday, you'll walk away from Mary, who gives you pitying stares when she thinks you can't see her. The woman who thinks she's your friend. She's not. Not even close. Because if she loved John so much, why would she shoot Sherlock? You don't care that she didn't aim to kill, that she'd known Sherlock would live. You care that she's cruel, unintentionally, and sometimes even more so than Sherlock himself.

Eventually you'll walk away from John Watson, the man who doesn't seem to care that other people knew, just that you knew. Someday you'll walk away because you know that John Watson cares so much about Sherlock Holmes that he's irrational. You're Molly Hooper and you've been a lot of things, but irrational has never been one of them. You'll walk away because Sherlock knows how John feels about you, and why he feels that way, but he doesn't care. Why should he? You're Molly Hooper, only important when you're being overlooked. Luckily, that happens a lot.

John Watson hates you because you weren't supposed to be important. Not at all. He hates you because he should have been the one to know that Sherlock was alive, not you. You're just the mousy little Pathologist with a ridiculous little crush on Sherlock Holmes. John Watson is Sherlock's best friend. John Watson has laid everything on the line for Sherlock Holmes. What have you done?

Someday you'll leave their little mystery novel. Someday you'll leave because someday there won't be anything holding you back from leaving. Someday there won't be anything to stay for. You've always been Sherlock's friend, but he's never been yours. John Watson has officially denounced himself as your friend. He can barely stand to look at you, you're a reminder of Sherlock's two years of betrayal. You'd miss Greg, but he'll always be Sherlock's friend first.

A part of you wonders if they'd notice, if you left. You wouldn't leave today, of course, but someday, when the present is more liberating, when the future is more about you than them. They'll find a new pathologist of course, you think. Sherlock's famous now, it won't be hard anymore. You've been sick of being called Molly Hooper, the Pathologist, as if your career defines you. As if, for some reason, the fact that you're Sherlock's Pathologist matters more than being Molly Hooper.

You stop at your building, which holds another bookstore. This one doesn't have tragic endings in its display case. It has a variety of different books, some happy, some not. Your story hasn't been that happy so far, but then, Sherlock's changed. Why can't yours?

Because you're Molly Hooper, and someday, that will be enough.

**A/N: I have nothing against Shelock or John or Mary, honestly. I was just inspired by that interview where Moffat stated that Molly Hooper was only supposed to be a small character. I've gone Molly-centric really recently, considering I kind of share her personality. Anyways, was thinking, what if Molly was kind of aware of the fact that she was supposed to be a minor character in her own story. That's where this came from. Reviews are greatly appreciated.**


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